Married to the Moff
by Rogue Callista
Summary: A parody about Grand Moff Tarkin's dysfunctional family, and the reason he blew up planets.


Disclaimer: You know the drill, yadda yadda yadda. I don't own any of this, Almighty George does. And I can't make a profit on it, even if somebody did want to buy this garbage. So let's cut to the chase, all right?

Author's Note: This is just a little silly thing I thought up one day when I was really bored. It's dedicated to my friend Blake, who I know will appreciate this twisted Star Wars humor just as much as I do.

* * * * *

****

Married to the Moff

Cast of Characters:

****

Grand Moff Tarkin 

Tarkin's Mother

Tarkin's Wife

Tarkin's Daughter

Tarkin's Son #1

Tarkin's Son #2

Household Droid

Psychiatrist

(The play opens with **Grand Moff Tarkin** reclining on a leather couch in the Psychiatrist's office. He is pouring his heart out as the **Psychiatrist **sits, taking notes.)

****

Psychiatrist: So, Mr. Tarkin, when did these breakdowns start?

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (sits upright in a momentary flash of temper) You will address me with the proper respect, minion! (bangs fist against couch) GRAND Moff Tarkin, if you please!

****

Psychiatrist: (rolls eyes when he is sure that Tarkin can't see, breathes deeply) All right, GRAND Moff Tarkin, when did these breakdowns start again?

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (lies back down on couch, sighs) It all started two weeks ago. I had just come home from a productive day's work blowing up uncooperative planets…

(The scene swirls to a flashback of two weeks ago. Grand Moff Tarkin has just walked into the front door of the Moff's Palace on Eriadu, carrying his umbrella and briefcase. He looks around to see if anybody has come to greet him.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: Honey, I'm home!

(His **Mother **shuffles into the front foyer and looks him up and down. She is dressed in a quilted housecoat and curlers.)

****

Tarkin's Mother: (with disdain) Oh, it's you again.

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (smiles pleasantly and makes an effort to sound sweet) Hello, Mother. How was your day?

****

Tarkin's Mother: (grunts) Hmmmph.

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (becomes more strained) I had a great day too. I blew up a few more uncooperative planets. Aren't you proud of me, Mother?

****

Tarkin's Mother: (grunts again) Hmmmmmmph.

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: Oh, just forget it. Where's my wife?

****

Tarkin's Mother: Where's your WIFE? She has a name too, ya know. Blowing up planets! I'm glad your father isn't alive to see this, Wilhuff. (pokes him with her cane) He's probably turning in his grave. We never raised you to blow up planets. Oh no. We wanted you to go into a NICE profession, like brick laying, or perhaps become a mailman. But NO, YOU have to go to work for that corpse-faced guy on Imperial Center and you go about blowing up planets for a living! I can't believe— (**Tarkin's mother** exits the room, still muttering.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (now rather disgruntled) I'm going to put that woman in the home one of these days. Droid! Droid!

(The **Household Droid** rolls into the room)

****

Droid: Yes, master?

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (hands **Droid** his briefcase and umbrella) Droid, where's Mrs. Tarkin?

****

Droid: (petulantly) Find out for yourself, lazybones. (The droid flings the briefcase and umbrella on the floor.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (shocked and indignant) Droid! What in the name of Palpatine are you doing? Obey my order!

****

Droid: (gets in Tarkin's face and blats rudely) No more orders for me, skull-face. I'm sick of being treated like a machine around here. I don't ask much, just a pension plan and two weeks paid vacation. But no, it's always, "Droid, do this," and "Droid, do that." Not even a word of thanks! Y'know, droids have feelins' too. And the neglect! Did I mention that my gears haven't been greased in 5.6 standard years? So this is it for me. I quit! Find yourself another hyperintelligent metal being to denigrate! 

(The **Droid** rolls out of the door in a fury.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (shakes head) I knew I shouldn't have let him hang around all those protocol units. I hate when he uses those big words. Good help is so hard to find these days.

(**Grand Moff Tarkin** walks into the living room. He spots his eldest son lying on the couch playing a hologame.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: Son, aren't you supposed to be elsewhere? You're twenty years old. Don't you think it's time to get a job?

****

Son #1: (stupidly) Uh…no.

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: You lazy bum! Do you know how much I spent on your education? How many reluctant sectors I had to coerce into behavior? You have no concern for your family, do you?

****

Son #1: (gets to his feet, flings hologame to the floor) You don't understand me, Dad! I need room to explore, to just be me, you know? But you keep pressuring me and pressuring me. I need my space, you know? (He is now in tears.) I hate you, Dad! I'm going to go see my therapist! (**Son #1** stalks out of the room.)

(Just then, **Son #2** walks into the room. He is about eleven years old, dressed in a neat sports uniform. **Grand Moff Tarkin** reaches over to pat him on the head affectionately.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: Hello, son. How are you?

****

Son #2: (pulls away) Why didn't you come to my smashball game? (He has a wounded look in his eyes.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (sheepish) Well…gee, son, the Emperor had something really important for me to do. You see, he wanted me to crush the Rebellion and I—

****

Son #2: (cuts in, whiningly) That is NOT more important than my smashball game! You are always too busy, and you're never around. Because of you, I'm lacking a positive male role model. It's all your fault! I hate you, Dad! (He runs out in the same direction as **Son #1**.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (determined to be cheerful) Oh well, I've still got a daughter. (He turns to his **Daughter**, seated at a computer console.) You still love me, don't you, sweetheart?

(His **Daughter** is dressed in vinyl pants, a purple halter top, and a leather jacket. Her hair is dyed orange, and she has about sixteen piercings in each ear, and one each in her nose and lip. She gives her father a dirty look.)

****

Daughter: (dramatically) WHY am I supposed to love you?

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: Well, Daughter, I, um—

****

Daughter: (interrupts, even more dramatic) You fathered me, is that it? Is that all? What else have you ever done for me? You represent the repressive male hierarchy that seeks to dominate and take power from women. You are constantly trying to deprive me of my singular female essence. You refuse to support my uniqueness, and you constantly attempt to shape me in the bigoted mold of your militarily-controlled subculture.

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (helplessly) Honey, how can I be doing any of those things? I don't even know the meaning of half those words.

****

Daughter: (glares at him) I hate you, too. (She turns back to her computer console.)

(**Grand Moff Tarkin's** determination is now downright scary. A smile is plastered to his skeletal face as he walks to the bedroom he and his **Wife **share. He stands outside the door hopefully.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (calls) Wife! Oh, darling! Love of my life!

(There is no response from inside, and he walks on in, to find his Wife packing her bags.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (stunned) What's this? I didn't know you were traveling, sweetheart.

****

Tarkin's Wife: (looks **Grand Moff Tarkin** in the eye) I'm leaving you.

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (bewildered) Why? I thought we had everything worked out…

****

Wife: You thought? You THOUGHT!?!? That's what you thought, sitting up there on your Death Star. You are so out of touch, Wilhuff. You are so out of touch you haven't noticed that I haven't been satisifed in this marriage since day one!!! (She continues her tirade as she finishes packing.) You always had bigger, better, more important things than this family to take care of. You never bothered to build up lines of communication. My therapist says this is an unhealthy relationship. So I'm leaving.

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (tries to reassert control) I am sorry that you are unhappy, but I forbid you to leave.

****

Wife: (loses it) You FORBID me? You can't forbid me to do anything, you pathetic little man. I'm not one of your stormtroopers. Goodbye, you insensitive jerk. (She stalks out the door with a bag in each hand.)

(**Grand Moff Tarkin** feels absolutely furious. His mother despises him, his droid quit, his children hate him, and his wife just left him. In these circumstances, there's only one thing to do. He looks up at the ceiling and releases his frustrations.)

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

(The scene fades back in to the **Psychiatrist's** office. The **Psychiatrist** nods sympathetically.)

****

Psychiatrist: I can see why you have so much tension in you. However, that is no excuse for blowing up innocent planets. We have to learn how to channel our anger.

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (nods) Yes, yes.

****

Psychiatrist: One effective way to do this is—

****

Grand Moff Tarkin: (interrupts, stands up with a smile.) You know, doctor, just talking about this has made me feel much better. I feel just like a new man. (He shakes the Psychiatrist's hand) I am ready to go send more rebellious worlds up in smoke. Please, just put this session on my tab. (**Grand Moff Tarkin** opens the door.)

****

Psychiatrist: But, but— (The **Psychiatrist **is left sputtering as **Grand Moff Tarkin** walks out the door whistling the Imperial March. He shouts after him helplessly.) Positive thoughts, remember!

****

The End


End file.
